I had a wonderful dream last night.
( Spoilers inside if you haven't read Anathem )

I don't think I've ever dreamed myself through an entire performance of Dr. Horrible before. But the real question is which is more troubling: that I was performing the role of the good doctor for most of it, complete with shifts in perspective, or that my dream-self had acquired Capt. Hammer's psychiatrist's appointment book, and was plotting an ( Read more... )

Stupid "trapped in the late Cretaceous" dreams. I actually survived longer this time than most, mainly because I was bright enough to go out onto a lake where the raptors couldn't follow me (I used giant lilypads). Raptors can't swim.

T-Rex apparently can, however. Which is f-ing terrifying.

I just awoke from a dream in which most of my family's goats developed the ability to speak. And the ability to sing.

The rendition of "Tainted Love" was especially disturbing.

So, I had this dream that we (where "we" means all of the usual suspects) were having a random Scottish/Irish/Contra music jam. Also, it was being held in my parents' greenhouse, which makes no sense at all, but hey, it's a dream and my subconscious can do whatever it wants.

At some point, playfulfordian started into a tune that I'd never heard before. I ( Read more... )

I'm not sure what warped and twisted section of my subconscious was responsible for me having a dream about Terry H. teaching ballet instead of Scottish dance, but it just happened. Not that I think he'd be incapable of doing it, assuming he learned ballet, but because the tutu was a bit much. I don't even think male ballet dancers wear them.